


My Big Fat Bat Wedding

by Darklady



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drunk Sex, Las Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The challenge was:<br/>As for Bruce? He needs to  meet someone, get drunk, wind up in Vegas and marry on a spur of the moment  thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Big Fat Bat Wedding

Bruce Wayne blinked at the sickly yellow light. Make that - tried to blink. Some supervillian had apparently sprayed rubber cement on his lashes - making opening his eyes more of a crowbar operation. Which made it all the more a mystery how they had gotten the road gravel under his eyelids.

Maybe daylight was a bad idea all together. Ignoring the base drum behind his left ear, Bruce eased his head towards what he hoped was the dimmer side of the bed. 

Shit!

The last thing Bruce remembered was knocking out Maxie Zeus.

No.

Not quite.

The light *inside* his head was coming on now. Slowly.

He had knocked out Zeus, called the incredulous Vegas police, and then? Bruce shifted again, Very cautiously. What the hell had happened that had given him this head?

Nothing. He’d been a bit winded from the fight, Zeus being meta after all, but that couldn't be it. Batman had taken out the would be deities criminal cohort with a flurry of batarangs then tangled Zeus with a Batline before the megalomaniac mobster could get off any of his lightning bolts. A quick, clean operation as such things went.

He remembered making his way down the alley and back to the hot-sheet motel where he had stashed his Bruce suit.

Bruce?

He blinked again, seeking clarity in the blurred light.

No - that was wrong.

He had been Matches for this one.

That would explain the less then salubrious decor. He picked a particularly umber splotch on the sagging plaster ceiling and forced the world back into focus.

OK - he had changed back into Matches. So far - so good. Then Roco Moronne had come along... with some friends of his. Bruce... Matches... had decided to join them. Local color. Not that the cops would have any reason to connect one more low-roller with the surprise appearance of Batman or the sudden *dis*appearance of Maxie’s gang, but getting busted for public intoxication was... still busted.

J’onn or Dick would have come and pulled him out - cover intact - but he would have had to listen to them *not* mention it for the rest of the month. A thought that made even the Bat shudder.

So he had gotten into the van Moronne had picked up. Ghod knew why - but at least that meant the driver was sober. Probably. Which was the prime consideration for a battered Bat at the time.

That and the soft seats.

Fight hadn’t been that easy. Zeus had taken out a few ribs on the way down. Bruised them - at least. No way to tell in the field. Whatever. It hurt.

Roco had offered a beer. Matches had taken it. Punks didn't carry aspirin.

They had gone to the Big Top - Big Top. Roco Moronne’s place.

Matches had wanted to stay in character, so when Roco veered off into the Poker room, Matches had pulled up a seat.

He remembered that game. Vaguely.

He had? His hand fumbled for the nightstand, encountering not only plastic chips but also a small Vesuvius of crumpled bills. Oh yes... he had won. Good thing. Not that it mattered to the Bruce-world, but the cash meant that he could keep Matches Malone going another few months without having to plant rumors about the old arsonist and whichever convenient fire was suitably suspicious.

The cocktail girl had brought by some safely weak gin-and-mostly- tonics. Also some aspirin. Plus some No-Doze. His lucky day. Amazing what showed up when you were tipping hundreds.

He had some memory of taking a dislike to a loud-mouthed oilman. Playboy Wayne would have dropped the deck, but Matches was a cut-throat Poker player, and with the post-fight adrenaline still in his system Bruce was in the mood to cut some throats. That accounted for another hour or so. With Matches doing the counting for both of them, Roco was running lucky.

Then Bernardo ‘Big Bert’ Bertelonni had walked in. Even luckier - as the Coast City mafiosia was on the Bat’s watch list.

Seemed Big Bert had been having girl problems. The stumped stallion had been a little stoned and a little talkative, and ‘Matches’ had jumped at the chance to encourage both.

Two bottles of single malt and Matches had a goon by goon rundown on the social complexities of every major crime family of the Southwest.

By about three am crappy-Timex-time Matches had lost back a few bucks. Just to encourage the process. Six more games and Matches had a new best friend. He was even invited to California for the summer fire season. Plus maybe a big Italian wedding.

That called for more drinks all around.

With that resolved Moronne had suggested they all take the car and track down the girls. Let her highness in on the good news, so to speak. Bert’s mob-land princess was apparently hanging out with gambling bosses squeeze of the month, doing the chocolate martini thing.

So they showed up at the Venetian with cash ( from Matches) and diamonds ( from Moronne - and now Batman knew what had happened to the Van Der Smoot haul ) and some lace wrapped red and yelow roses one of Bert’s boys had found down the lobby. Damn strange what got left around in Vegas.

Big Bert and his ‘babbykins’ had reconciled. Energetically. Bruce remembered Moronne’s redhead sobbing into Match’s trademark checked handkerchief while Bert insisted that...Christ... insisted that his new friend Malone be his best man.

They had called for a stretch limo... apparently even gangsters these days weren't dumb enough to drive drunk. Besides which - the princess thought it would be romantic - and since Bert was following his new best friends advice? Make the lady happy.

They had had some more martinis while they were waiting. 

Then pink gin in the car, on the way to the shopping mall.

Irish coffee there.

Bourbon at the Bellagio, where they had gone to pick up some friends of Morrone’s friend. 

A unexpectedly good Chianti at the Sahara, where they found more friends. And another car, because they had run out of lap space.

Some vodka after that. Because apparently the princess was a tsarina, and you had to be culturally sensitive. Bruce remembered (to his growing horror) insisting on that. 

Then champagne while waiting for some little old lady in rhinestone glasses to finish some sort of paperwork. Because it was free and peppered vodka made you thirsty.

Then?

Bruce remembered walking...well...stumbling... but that was mostly because he was steering an oversized body in a pink tuxedo. Which somehow matched the pink lump that was crumpled at the foot of the bed. Had Matches changed? Bruce had some memory of a short guy with a hanger, but the details were blurred by... well, he hoped it was at least as much exhaustion as champagne.

Anyway - the whole party had made their way down the aisle. Someplace... fancy. Or at least overdecorated. Bruce clearly remembered the roses. Damn trellis had scratched him up good when someone - was it Bert? - had tripped him into it. Plus there had been that chair that Bruce was fairly sure had magically come to life and attacked them. Despite that, they’d made it through. Then a guy dressed up as Elvis - who Bruce now realized with a sickening intestinal lurch had to be a chaplain.... had asked... something like ‘Do you?”

Then Bruce... Matches... had said... something like... “My shoe? Ignew? Why Lou?”

No. He shook his head. A painful gesture - but pain had a way of clarifying matters? So?

Pushing against the lumpy mattress, he rolled onto his shoulder. And into a warm lump.

Wha???

SHIT!

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©KKR 2012

**Author's Note:**

> I have NO IDEA who is in that bed with Bruce. NONE! Not even a clue. So your mission - should you decide to accept it - to to tell me WHO Bruce wakes up with. Or you can just use your evil imagination. LOL


End file.
